


Saturn's Orbit

by lousy_science



Series: Saturn 'verse [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: AU, Iowa, Jailbait - Freeform, M/M, Saturn 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:27:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lousy_science/pseuds/lousy_science
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Saturn's Gravity</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturn's Orbit

_**Saturn's Orbit, K/S AU**_  
 **Title:** Saturn's Orbit (follow up to Saturn's Gravity)  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Universe:**  AU Reboot/TOS, take your fancy  
 **Word count:**  5K  
 **Genre:** Present-day Earth AU, cracky angst  
 **Tropes:**  Teen!Jim, Jailbait!Jim, Whumped!Jim, Human!Spock  
 **Additional Pairings:**  None  
 **Warnings:**  Unbeta'd, spanking, mentions of neglect/abuse  
 **Summary:**  Sequel to Saturn's Gravity: What hope is there for our troubled young hero and his probably-requited-but-still-elusive passion for a enigmatic rocket scientist in the heart of Iowa?   
 **Disclaimer:** Lies and untruths 

  


  
This may be the best date of his life. Not that Jim had gone on many dates, romantic though the men's room at McCoys was. Most people wouldn’t even call this a real date, but finding himself doing equations on that couch next to Spock, that warmth pressed up against one side, his chin sometimes hooking over Jim's shoulder to look over his results? It was great. Though he felt like he had the mathematical ability of roadkill doing this stuff, at least he’d managed to worm his way back here.

His brain might ache with the swarm of cosines and vectors, but he was near giddy at being so close. Tucked into the pocket of Spock’s domestic life, near his heartbeat.

Hot whuffs of air brushed over his cheek.

“That needs to be plotted on the Y axis, then tracked, use that formula from the beta sheet.”

Ripples, actual goddamn ripples in his stomach. Even though this graph thing was being a royal bitch, even though they are needlessly clothed and hunched over laptops, Jim is half-hard.

Considering that his day had started out about as appetising as refried ass on toast, Jim felt rather proud for turning it around.

This morning, he’d woken up in an empty house.

His Mama sometimes cut out on them. Decamped to a friend’s house on base, where they would’ve lived if Frank hadn’t crashed into a general’s car back in ’98, left Frank and Jim alone with peanut butter in the pantry and OJ in the fridge. She always bought good orange juice, the kind with pulp, none of that powdered shit. Gave Jim a degree of comfort, despite himself, seeing two bottles of it in the side shelf. If his brother had stuck around, he’d be in here, pouring it into the collectible He-Man glasses they always used together.

Frank was nowhere to be seen or smelt, but Jim didn’t want to stick around here. He had someone to see. Taking the OJ with him, Jim shrugged on his jacket and made for the door.

  


+&+&+&+

  
From three pm, the security on the eFleet gate was Denny. Denny was down with letting Jim hang out, they worked on the crosswords and shared hot chocolate out of the flask his wife packed him. Jim sat squished up at the end of the hut, under the eye level of the gate opening, so no drivers could see him. In return for some first class Sudoku help and packets of Moon Pies, Denny kept an eye on the red Saturn for Jim.

“14 down, how can it not be ‘Irate’? Maybe ‘Gelatinous’ is wrong. This is from yesterday, right? Today’s paper will have the result.”

“That’s cheating and against the spirit of the puzzle page.”

“Your face is against the spirit of the puzzle page, Den.”

“ ‘Pique’?”

“Huh? Oh, instead of irate? Nah, dude, that’s not gonna work. I got that Sudoku out, though, so at least one of the brains in here functions.”

“Your man’s up, Kirk.”

“Really?”

Jim scrambled to his feet. “And it’s only seven thirty. He’s getting lazy.”

“He logged in at eight am.”

“I tell you, Den, you can’t find decent help anymore. Hey, you can’t see much of his car from here, can you? With the CCTV?”

“I know enough to avert my eyes. Get gone.”

Jim wanted to saunter over, but knew Spock moved quick. The guy prowled, he’d swear. Jim hustled over to the car and knelt by the driver’s door, thankful for a howling wind that covered up the sound of his approach.

Spock walked up to him, face barely registering surprise, or discomfit.

“Mr. Kirk. What are you doing in the parking lot?”

“Mr. Spock. Checking the air pressure on these here, did you know the proportion of accidents caused by under-inflated automobile tires?”

“Approximately 0.8 percent.”

Jim reached out for Spock’s right leg.

“This is why I miss you.”

He quickly scanned the lot for other people, then moved up to his knees. Off-kilter from the sudden change, Spock leaned a hand to Jim’s head, “What are you- ”

“Put your back against the car,” Jim was working on Spock’s belt buckle, “I wanna blow you.”

He only got his hands on Spock’s zipper for a moment before they were grabbed and pressed back.

“No.”

This was cool, he expected some resistance, had bet on it, in fact. Stage two: pushing his face past those long-fingered hands into Spock’s zipper and nuzzling the weight he found there. Stage two lasted a couple of seconds. Jim was looking up at Spock’s face, brows drawn together angrily. His face was caught up in Spock’s firm grip.

“C’mon, I’ve got a plan, no-one can see…”

“I do not do this, Mr. Kirk.”

His face was released, and Spock was gliding out from the squeeze between Jim and the car.

“What? Blowjobs? Because I am prepared to call bullshit on that.”

Jim scrambled to his feet and brushed down his jeans. Stage three: abject begging may have to be actioned much earlier than Jim had hoped.

Spock had walked to the other side of the Saturn. His face gave away enough that Jim could tell he was struggling with something in his mind. _Good, that’s what you get for turning down my mouth. Inner turmoil_.

Jim decided to keep quiet, while projecting his helpless-small-kitten-by-roadside look.

Spock opened the passenger door. “Do you need a lift somewhere?”

Jim shrugged his shoulders.

“Then I’ll assume that you don’t have other plans for this evening. In.”

  


+&+&+&+

  
They were standing in Spock’s living room, two laptops humming to life behind them on the coffee table. Spock had muttered something about a paper he was peer-reviewing, some proofs which needed checking over. Jim knew he was grinning like a hyena and could care less.

His host and still-potential-blowjobee was moving towards an immaculate open-plan kitchen.

“Have you eaten?”

“Had some OJ earlier, a couple of Moon Pies.”

Spock’s face had flinched at the name. Jim loved it.

“What is a Moon Pie?”

“You know, you must, it’s this chocolate-marshmallow bundle of awesomeness.”

“I’m a vegan.”

“Really?”

Maybe that’s why he’s so pale.

“Well, cool. I’ll eat anything.”

“Is that a warning, or an invitation?”

Jim exploded with laughter, while Spock, deadpan as ever, turned to grab a wok from the wall.

  
An hour in, Jim had his head down, eyes blurring with equations and pixels, stomach churning, when Spock leaned a few inches towards him.

"You're familiar with the Ginzburg-Landau?"

"Of course,"

Jim saw the trace of a smile there. He twisted his neck and followed it with his mouth, nuzzling into Spock's neck. Spock was warm, really warm, and under the overwhelming layers of clean, he smelt all spicy. Kinda like cinnamon. Mixed with charcoal. Awesome.  
Spock inhaled quickly, and Jim curled into him more. One of his legs over Spock's lap, he licked the underside of his chin. Spock was beautiful, so different from anyone else Jim had ever known. His face was full of mysteries, and Jim wanted to kiss out all of them.

“We’re not finished,”

He pulled back, Spock’s hands a welcome weight on his hips.

“Correct. I still have to blow you.”

Spock bit at Jim’s lips for that, before licking away the pain and kissing him forcefully.

“Spock. I want you to, to,”

He sat back on his hips and tried to decide what look he should be going for. Winsome? Debauched? Just plain ol’ eager?

“- fuck me. Please. No one else has yet, want it to be you first time.”

Spock’s brow furrowed, and his grasp on Jim’s hips was suddenly firm enough to bruise. He made to push Jim back, but before he could make an answer Jim kept babbling.

“Please, better it’s you than some roughneck fucker at the bar, right?”

For this he got his left arm pulled behind him and up his back. Pushed off balance into Spock’s chest, Jim’s earlobe was edged by sharp teeth, and that voice, lower than he’d ever heard it before.

“What makes you believe that I’d be any safer?”

Jim may have mewled as Spock kept his iron grip on him, rubbing them together. Like Jim was some toy. He barely got any sound out before Spock’s mouth was on him again, more savage than before. Jim bucked on his lap. Their mouths broke apart wetly.

“C’mon, you uptight vegan, fuck me hard already.”

“ _Behave_.”

“Make me.”

The wind was knocked out of him as Spock spun him around and lay him face down into the couch, over his lap. His hand got released in time for him to scrabble for the couch arm as Spock nudged him up far enough to get at his buckle and lower Jim’s pants. Oh. Fuck. Yes.

The first smack hit Jim over his underwear, electric sparks shooting up his spine and his dick hard as a rock. Gently, his shorts were pulled down and fingers brushed over his ass. Jim almost bit his tongue off when the next blow came. By the fifth, his mind was blank, a white space for Spock’s hands to fill. _Ohfuckyes_. He writhed at every touch, and those strong arms were levering him off of Spock’s lap and on to his back on the floor. Spock was above him, straddling him, and Jim felt the desire to touch him back, but it was lost in the static haze of warmth and pleasure buzzing in his head.

His tee was pulled up, and _yesyesyes_ , Spock was touching Jim’s cock. After a couple of tugs by those amazing fingers, Jim knew he was close, his back arching off of the floor as he pushed himself into Spock’s touch. His come hit his stomach in hot ropes. Then Spock was leaning back, unfastening himself, and directing that beautiful cock at Jim. He wanted to taste but could barely bring himself to move as Spock jerked off over him, their release mixing on Jim’s belly.

Too quickly, so that he was almost a blur in Jim’s exhausted vision, Spock was up, taking his body heat away from Jim’s. Jim moved a hand over his stomach, feeling the sticky coating and a feeling of inordinate pride.

“Up. The bathroom’s on the left. Get clean.”

Jim walked wordlessly to the bathroom, legs still a little shaky but he refused to let Spock see that. Had heard the ice in his voice.

Spock's bathroom was all chrome and white tiles, one of those room-as-shower arrangements (wetroom? Jim has to watch less Extreme Makeover: Home Edition), he quietly boggled at the potential for kinky shower-sex with all that space and the little shelf thingy set into the wall.

Wetting a hand towel, he pulled off his shirt and faced the mirror. This is what Spock had been looking at - in the overwhelming light he could see the rings under his eyes, the smattering of acne on his chin, the nebula of a bruise on the side of his skinny torso. He'd pretty much forgotten about that - it was a few days old, now ripening into a starburst of colour but barely even tender anymore. Guess that was what locked Spock down so quickly.

He'd still gotten off though, hadn't he?

Jim pinched at his ribs, wishing he’d had a bit more bulk there to absorb the blows.

Like last time, he cleaned himself up then checked out the bathroom cabinet. Clean, organised, not quite serial killer tidy, but close.

He’d licked his fingers clean, feeling the sweet burn of a pyrrhic victory when doing it. Dropping his wet towel on the floor out of spite, he rolled up his sweat-soaked tee and walked out to the living room.

Spock was standing by the window, silhouetted briefly by the lights of a passing car. His back was to Jim, who felt like he’d walked into the third act of a play and had no idea what was going on, only that everything looked really good and really sad.

Spock’s head flicked around. He took in Jim’s bare chest, and those dark eyes settled on the bruise.

“What is it? Am I not your type?”

“You’re not remotely my type, Mr. Kirk.”

“I tasted you,”

Jim felt his words hanging in the air. As if they were dangerous. It wasn’t really that big a deal. Tasted just like jizz did.

“…so I think I’m entitled to a first name.”

Spock winced. “Jim. You need to understand. I have rules about who I play with. I don’t ever mix my personal activities with my professional life. Whoever I take to my bed, they know what they want from me and I know what I want from them. That’s safety. I don’t sleep with teenagers, didn’t even when I was one. They want so much and for terrible, emotional reasons,”

“You’re making this about my _age_? Now? Spock, for Christ’s sake,”

Spock walked over and grabbed Jim’s shoulders.

“This is about you getting kicked around regularly. If I asked, would you even tell me what this bruise is from? Where the other ones came from? _Who_? _Why_?”

Jim swallowed, his mouth like sand.

“This is because of that way you want to give up everything to any stranger, let them break you, hurt you, and I know you can’t tell me why.”

“Don’t do that, don’t start looking all concerned and making big speeches at me, you selfish fuck.”

“I’m telling you, I am trying to make the best decision – after several badly made ones – for both of us. You do not know what you want.”

“Yes I goddamn do! I wanted you, I wanted some fun, you couldn’t let this be easy? Had to use your fucking logic? I know what this is about, you’re having the big talk with me now and later you can congratulate yourself for reaching out to the poor fucked-up trashy kid and doing the right thing – right after you came all over my bruises, but I bet you can justify that as a moral decision, too, right?”

“This is about safety. You cannot look after your own, and I am only compromising you. And myself.”

“Don’t give me that stiff upper lip and say that, you love it. You love me compromising you. That’s what this has been all about, always, and you are too pigheaded to admit it.”

Spock stepped back, face still resolute. Jim had thought he would land a blow with that last comment, but there was no sign of it.

“I have some cream for that injury. I will leave you here for a while, then drive you wherever you want.”

“You’re not dropping me off at another street corner like a hooker and holding on to that precious moral high ground, _Doctor_.”

Jim felt that Spock was slipping through his fingers, he watched the other man calmly turn and make for the hallway.

“I’m going, I’m gone if you walk out on me now.”

Spock turned his perfect profile over his shoulder. “My offer of help on any academic application remains, Jim.”

“Is that so? Fuck you, Spock, fuck you very much.”

Jim grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on over his bare chest. He grabbed the door handle and turned, then ran and ran into the Iowa night.

  


+&+&+&+

  
The sunlight is holding on to the edges of Friday evening, still bright enough to make Jim squint. He has avoided this street, this whole section of town, for a couple of weeks. The house looks otherworldly, the Saturn parked outside as red and shiny as if brand new. Same as ever.

Spock has come home early. Jim’s luck is holding. He tells himself that over and over as he struts up to the door and knocks. At the sound of Spock’s walk, Jim restrains a shudder. It opens, and damn but he still looks good. Perfect.

“Jim. What are you doing here?”

Jim cranes his neck to see if Spock’s entertaining anyone. That perfect pair of brows have shifted into their most disapproving angles.  
He grits his teeth behind his smirk, remember to breathe, not to bait him. He wants this too bad, and time is of the essence.

“It’s my birthday. Thought you might want to celebrate my new maturity.”

“You’re eighteen, so you think you’re automatically an adult?”

“The US Government does.”

“That is not an establishment known for consistently good role modelling.”

“I enlisted. This morning.”

Spock grows even paler before Jim’s eyes. His mind seems to be struggling, sluggish for once.

“Can I? Inside?”

Spock moves wordlessly to let him in. By the time Jim is back in the living room he seems to have regained his composure.

There’s just the one laptop going, one glass of mineral water, no jailbait interns obviously lying around waiting to be debauched – Jim has always believed that Spock was telling him the truth, as much as he wanted to be lied to about his personal habits. Had tried to convince himself that Spock was typical in that way, at least. But his heart burned to know that maybe he wasn't.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Champagne is traditional for celebrations, I believe.”

Spock poured him a water from the dark blue bottle he’d been drinking from.

“Cheers.”

Spock surprised him by clinking glasses. Jim cleared his throat. “So, I wanted to say goodbye. See how you were doing. Drink some imported water. Get fucked by a vegan. Typical last-night-of-freedom stuff.”

“Last night?”

“I’m due on a bus tomorrow morning at ten, it’s a seven-hour ride.”

“But Fort Tobin is just across town, where would they be sending you?”

“I signed up for the Air Force. Going somewhere called Greenpike, even smaller than this place.”

The brows lift. “Air Force. How did you mother respond?”

“She yelled. Then laughed. Then cried. Then hung up on me. I haven’t been living there for a while.”

“I understand that you have been doing some work for the proprietor of a bar?”

“So, it’s creepy that you know that. Yeah, clearing glasses at McCoys, he’s been good to me. Let me crash there. Less chaotic than what I was used to, you know?”

Spock shook his head resignedly. It was enough of an emotional response to convince Jim to move into his personal space.

“Spock. I’ve got this body for another fifteen hours before it becomes some Drill Instructor’s property, do you want to take me out dancing? To the pinball parlour? Out to drink a soy thick shake at the five and dime?” He tilted his head. “Or shall I go back to McCoys?”

He was aiming for cocky, but even Jim could hear something raw exposed in his voice.

Spock closed the last whisper of space between them, and Jim held his breath. Slowly, torturously slowly, Spock did the most unexpected thing. He placed his hands on Jim’s back and hugged him. Nuzzled lightly at his temple. Jim folded his head onto his shoulder, let himself feel the taller man’s support. Knowing that it was given grudgingly.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Jim’s words were muffled by Spock’s shirt.

“Go have a shower. Meet me in the bedroom.”

“That sounds like a fucking memo.”

He could feel the eyebrow twitch, he swore. A light kiss to his forehead, as if Jim was some doe-eyed pining teen and not a future motherfucking Top Gun.

In the shower, Jim feels a twinge of apprehension. Is he meant to, well, clean himself specially or something? He grazes a soaped finger down there, feeling very inexperienced and unsexy.

Coming out, dressed in the clothes he found folded on the cabinet, Spock’s boxers and a t shirt made of some soft, otherworldy material, he stands at the edge of the bed. Trying not to look like a kid in his boyfriend’s pyjamas. Spock is sitting on the bed, looks up at him and stands. His gaze is part admiring, part predatory. The door closes at Jim’s press with a little _snick_ noise.

The first kiss is so soft, Spock’s hands gentle on his waist. Jim humms against his lips, wanting more, wanting his head to clear with the feeling of being used. “Shush.”

A finger over his cheekbone. Jim worries that his eyes are radiating out everything, that Spock can see it all.

“I’m not breakable, you don’t have to act like I’m made of glass,”

Spock’s face creases with some emotion, his eyebrows join. He speaks quietly.

“Jim. Be compassionate with yourself.”

For some reason that breaks something inside Jim, he bends into Spock’s neck, biting back a sob. It’s been a long day, he doesn’t know what’s going on in his mind. Just wants Spock to clear all that away.

“I am going to ask you to do things. If you don’t want to, say no, or tell me to slow down. I am doing this so that there will be no errors in our communication.”

Jim smiled at that, feeling a flush bloom up his neck for reasons unknown.

“You will take my clothes off – and place them on that chair. You may touch whatever you want.”

Jim’s hands move to Spock’s stomach, curling under his shirt as he pulls it free from his hot, dry skin. Spock’s hands are more sure, pulling the tee away from Jim in one smooth motion, then just as effectively pulling off the boxers. Jim’s cock bounces up, heavy and happy to be free and in such proximity to Spock. Jim’s dick is free of any emotional burdens and has always had a very clear idea of what it would like to do in Spock’s bedroom. He attempts to ignore it as he gets to work on Spock’s clothes, wanting to fling them to the floor but utilising his terrific IQ, in response to several direct looks from Spock, he folds them away.

Spock’s skin is pale, covering in delicious dark black hair like inkstrokes. He stands, utterly comfortable bareassed naked as clothed. A little smile plays on his face as Jim explores. Starts by running his hands through that chest chair, lightly bending an arm to get at the pits, kissing that porcelain skin, fingering the little hard tips of his nipples. Spock’s back is muscled under his touch, there’s a couple of old scars there that Jim licks over, Spock’s fingers raised to entwine with his. He moves down, peppering kisses and bites from where Spock’s trim waist rounds into his ass, those endless legs, even the back of his knees. Then Jim settles himself at Spock’s feet, feeling puppy-giddy and content. Hands frame Spock’s cock, the hair still soft here, Jim noses at his balls and inhales that spicy smell. It’s strong enough to get drunk on.

Hands at either side of his head, he looks up to meet those eyes.

“You may begin.”

“Such a fucking pedagogue, always.”

Spock holds his dick so that the wet tip paints a line down Jim’s cheek. He opens his mouth around it, closes his eyes with bliss and goes to work. Spock angles his head just so, won’t let him go too quick. He scrapes his teeth lightly under the head, gets a satisfying murmur in response, which won’t quite do. He wants to hear Spock scream. Twirls his tongue, gets his hands to work. Lifts off and sucks in one of Spock’s balls, rolls it a little in his mouth, then lets himself be moved back, throat open to take Spock’s rougher thrusts.

He can hear his name, it sounds like it’s coming from a hundred miles above him. “Jim, Jim, Jim…so good, for me, oh, Jim,”

His head is yanked back sharply, and his face is being covered, hot and sticky. He’s being lifted to the bed and covered by that long, lean body. Jim is desperate to touch his aching cock, now pressed to his stomach by Spock’s weight, not enough friction, not enough anything. Spock deftly licks his face clean, so thoroughly it’s almost feline. Jim is surprised at how much of a turn on that is.

They kiss, long and deep, Spock bending to suck bruises into Jim’s neck. Jim’s gonna look a picture on that bus tomorrow.

“Mmm, Spock, gotta do something,”

“Shh, soon. Move over to your front.”

He doesn’t get to follow the instruction, is flipped, arranged to Spock’s choice. A pillow is moved under him, his ass presented like on a goddamn platter. He looks over his shoulder, a little part of him still embarrassed. Spock is staring again, determined, stroking down Jim’s flank. Jim experimentally rocks his hips, trying to get some relief, and gets a light slap of warning.

“Can’t stop me moving,”

“I’ll get you there, Jim, have patience.”

“Since when have you known me to be- ungh!”

Spock had just bit his ass. He was sucking a damn hickey into it. Perhaps there was a possessive side to him, after all. Long fingers rubbed his cheeks, he was being kissed and bitten all over, Jim found himself groaning and then he got spread.

Burying his face into his folded arms, he mumbled, “Jesus Christ.”

Spock responded with a long lick, down to Jim’s center, down over his taint and back up again. The tongue always wet, insistent, circling him and it was so new and amazing, he’d never thought this would be anywhere near this good. Then Spock’s face moved to an even more intimate angle, kissing in and that wet heat moving to breach him. Licking him open. Jim was screaming silently, unable to make any real noise but gasps, trying to drag back any oxygen that he could find because this was extraordinary.

The switch to fingers did make him yelp, he could feel the slick of lube along with saliva.  
Spock played with him, relentlessly, fixated on moving Jim around, probing with those fingers, that tongue, throwing in the occasional slap, until Jim was begging, face covered in tears, to be fucked already.

“Spock, please- ”

He barely made out the crinkling of the condom packet. “Breathe, Jim, let me know what you’re feeling.”

And he was inside him, the head of Spock’s dick pressed past the ring of muscle, Jim’s body unsure of how to respond – half trying to wriggle away, half pulling him in. He bowed his back and let Spock angle his hips, push his way inside inch by inch. It burned, ached in a way Jim found irresistible, felt like the first high, the first mouthful of whiskey.

Spock was over him, his body radiating heat to Jim’s back, Jim pulled his own head around to look, to try and grab a kiss. Spock held back, then closed the space. They couldn’t do much more than the roughest meeting of lips, as Jim adjusted to the feeling.

“Good, I’m good, you can start.”

Spock bit his shoulder. “You are sure?”

Jim pushed his hips up, Spock grunted something disapproving and started to thrust.  
He fucked like he thought, like he worked. Relentlessly, perfectly, adjusting for the best pressure, the right rhythm.

A hand passed over Jim’s sweaty belly to his dick, pulled at him, Jim supporting himself on his forearms, swearing a blue streak. He came, felt his whole body shudder around Spock. Who kept going, Jim flat on the bed, boneless, sighing, breathing in time with Spock, then hearing the hitch in his voice. “ _Jim_.”

Felt Spock come, amazed at the detail, how close they were. For a few hot moments it was as if Spock had Jim’s heart in his fist, flexing around him. Feeling the true strength of what he had to give.

Afterwards Spock cleaned him up, insisted on checking for any tears, shooting him a look when Jim said, “Please sir, may I have a little more?”

The sheets got pulled back, Jim folded into them.

“Wait a little before you get up. Your legs will feel shaky.”

Jim couldn’t even sass back, just lay there watching Spock turn to the bathroom. Could feel the patches of the bedding that still held their heat. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on more than that, the sounds of water falling and the door opening washing over him. By the time Spock slipped under the sheets next to him, Jim was mostly asleep.

+&+&+&+

Jim woke up in the night, suddenly and awash with confusion. For a couple of seconds he didn’t know where he was or what he’d done. There was an arm draped over his chest, a hand curled into his armpit, and once his eyes adjusted to the dark he recovered his calm, looking at Spock, luxuriating in the creepiness of just watching him.

When he woke up again in the morning, he was alone in the bed with his aches and cramped muscles. Shaking his legs out, he padded to the bathroom – no Spock in there - and cleaned up. Checked himself out in the mirror, revelling in the feeling of being different in a new way. A fun way.

Spock was eventually located in the kitchen, the source of the scent of coffee wafting through the house. He was in a suit, no tie, which Jim guessed was Spock Casual.

“Mornin’, gorgeous. I like my eggs sunny side-up, and my bacon crispy.”

Spock barely bothered to glower. In fact, he looked pretty pleased with himself. Jim was relieved. He didn’t want another argument this morning, despite how enjoyable it was to fight with Spock.

He got pulled into those long arms, fingers and eyes checking him over – Jim hadn’t bothered to get dressed - for bruises and marks.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Any pain? Bleeding?”

“Jeez, Spock, all this romantic talk could make a fella swoon on the spot. I’m fine, what’s there to eat? Is my last civilian meal going to be tofu?”

“Tofu is an excellent protein source.”

“I can think of other sources of protein I prefer in my mouth,”

Spock gave his ass a smack and turned back to the bench. There was some kind of granary bread, muesli, fruit, a suspicious-looking yogurt approximation in an earthenware jug, and peanut butter, which Jim grabbed and started eating spoonfuls of. Spock just sighed laboriously, and poured him out some coffee.

They ate breakfast standing up, bites interrupted by kisses and groping and Jim convincing Spock to lose his shirt by mostly-accidentally pouring jam over it. Finding himself pressed up against the bench, Jim sucked in his breath as Spock lowered himself to tease at a nipple with his teeth, then gracefully lower himself to the floor. Jim had thought about those full lips over him, but the reality was even better, Spock making him come embarrassingly quickly.

  


+&+&+&+

  
“You have less than an hour, Jim,”

Jim shrugged. He was dressed now, sitting with Spock over a pile of maths journals and a Richard Feynman book he’d discovered tucked away on the top shelf of the book case.

“Do you want to pick up anything, from your mother’s house or the, uh, drinking establishment?”

“The things you can pick up at McCoys do not make great souvenirs. I’m good.”

Along with his bus ticket, Jim currently owned $55 in crumpled bills, his drivers license, his phone, a usb stick with various bits and pieces that might come in handy, and three keys with an eFleet keyring he’d lifted from the workplace on his last day.

“I will give you a lift to the station.”

Jim shook his head. It had crossed his mind, but not matter how greedy he was for Spock, that would only make them both uncomfortable.

“I’ll walk. Be good to stretch my legs.”

He made as if to get up. Jim was not one for long goodbyes, his family had taught him the pain of those.

“Take this. For the trip.”

The Feynman book. Jim had been happy to find out that Spock was a fanboy for someone, the book was a first edition hardback. This was no small thing to give away.

“You sure?”

Why bother asking? Spock didn’t deign to reply. “Cool. I promise I won’t swap it for cigarettes or porn.”

They walked together to the door, about three metres of discomfit. “Spock, thanks. I mean, not just for the book. Definitely not at all for that awful vegan yogurt stuff,”

Spock grimaced, and Jim couldn’t help but laugh.

“Might get to fly in one of your planes, one day.”

“My contribution to military design is really more on broad theoretical application than any concrete utility, but I believe I understand your sentiment.”

“Was that good luck you wished me?”

“Jim. Listen to me. I am still right, you have to learn not to hand yourself over completely to anything. Not to the military, not to any institution, person, or cause. It’s not logic- it’s not _healthy_.”

Jim tamped down his anger. Spock’s face was as resolute as he’d ever seen it, but there was something else, warm and exposed, in those eyes.

“I’ll be seeing ya, maybe. If not – well, stay awesome.”

“Stay safe, Jim Kirk.”

Jim walked out of that door for the last time. He didn’t let himself look back, just headed to his destination with the sun at his back, hanging over him like an impassive eye.


End file.
